Sweeney Todd AU
by LivtheZombae
Summary: After sixteen years in exile, Jefferson Swan, now Maddox Hatter, returns to London, seeking revenge.
1. No Place Like London

**For the purpose of this story, Emma is Jefferson's daughter b/c Jeff is Sweeney Todd and Emma is Johanna (I know, I know I could've used Grace as Johanna but then I would've wanted to use Henry as Anthony and I really wanted Henry to be Toby…also this way I can put some SF in)**

 **in this story, Nealfire is going to be Basil Cassidy (he'll go by Bae though)**

The young man stepped lightly onto the docks, his eyes flitting from side to side as he took in the sight of London. At the sound of footsteps, he turned and his gaze fell on his traveling companion, a haggard man of almost fifty years with wild hair and weary bloodshot eyes. The older man's steps fell heavier as he joined the younger man on the docks.

"You know," the younger man began as the pair walked down a dank street, "I have sailed the world but I don't think any place quite compares to London."

"No…you're quite right Basil," the older man rasped, "there's no place quite like London."

The further they walked down the cobbled streets of the city, the colder the older man's eyes grew. Abruptly the older man stopped in the middle of the street, a haunted look in his eyes. Basil, who had walked a few paces ahead, turned and stared back at his companion.

"Are you alright, Mr. Hatter?"

Hatter gave his head a little shake. "Forgive me, Basil. My mind is…uneasy. Sixteen years I've been gone…," he glanced around, "…and these once familiar streets are now full of shadows…and ghosts," he said, whispering the last word.

Basil looked uncertainly at Hatter, "Shall we press on, Sir?"

"Yes…yes, of course." Hatter replied.

They walked on in silence, Basil still staring in wonder while Hatter's eyes nervously flitted around. Quite suddenly, Hatter turned to his young companion, a small smile tugging at his lips, "Would you like to hear a story, Basil?"

"If it pleases you, Sir."

Hatter nodded, a slight smile now on his lips as his eyes took on a faraway look. "Once upon a time, there was a barber and his wife, his beautiful, virtuous wife, and they were living quite happily…until one day when another man—a judge—noticed the barber's wife and he was quite taken with her. He pursued the lady, sent her flowers daily, waited beneath her window but she paid him no mind for she was happily married to the barber. So the judge resolved to do away with the barber so that the lady might be free…"

"What did the judge do?"

The older man glanced back his comapnion. "The judge used his position and power to accuse the barber of a crime he did not commit. And even though the barber was innocent, he was convicted of the crime and exiled…for sixteen years," Hatter sighed deeply. "With the barber gone, the judge was certain the lady would succumb to him…"

"And did she?" Basil asked after a beat of silence.

"I don't know, Basil…it was so long ago…I doubt anyone would know."

"Of course, sir."

Hatter contemplated the young man before him as his eyes once again took on the faraway look, "You're young, Basil, only eighteen…and thus far life has been kind to you but one day…," he dropped his head and sighed, "one day, you will learn how cruel the world can be…"

Basil gazed at his companion, curiosity mingling with uncertainty.

Hatter pulled himself out of his thoughts and shook his head as if to clear his head. With a small smile, he said "I owe you thanks, Basil. If you hadn't seen me on that ship, I might be lost on the ocean still".

Basil nodded in acknowledgement.

"So thank you, Basil...but this is where we part ways."

A slight frown creased Basil's brow, "Will I see you again, Mr. Hatter?"

"You might find me if you like," Hatter replied as he set off down a street. With the ghost of a wicked grin, he added, "Around Fleet Street, I wouldn't wonder."


	2. Worst Pies in London

**I am so sorry for not updating sooner but I do plan to update this more regularly in the future.**

 _Mills' Meat Pies_

Mr. Hatter eyes moved from the sign to the flight of stairs next door. His eyes traveled up the stairs and his breath hitched as his gaze settled on the entrance to his former barber shop. It looked abandoned but Mr. Hatter couldn't help but feel that it had been waiting for his return. An almost smile crossed his lips as memories of happier times rose to the surface. He gave his head an absent shake and returned his attention to the pie shop. He cocked his head to the side; had it always been there or had it been established during his absence?

Hatter's eyes flitted to the sign again, taking in it's dingy appearance, perhaps it too had been abandoned. He walked up to the door and tried the handle. The shop's door creaked open and Mr. Hatter stepped inside tentatively, taking in the gloomy interior. Were it not for the women bent over the counter, rolling out pie dough, he would've assumed the place closed for business.

Mr. Hatter cleared his throat, alerting the woman to his presence. She looked up, eyes widened in surprise.

"A customer," she gasped. "Sit down, sit down."

He looked at the table she was waving him towards and sat down gingerly.

"Could hardly believe it when you came in—thought you might've been a ghost…," she looked at him in wonder and then laughed breathlessly, "but here you are."

Hatter nodded stiffly and cleared his throat. "Could I perhaps…"

"Right. 'course," she said as she bustled about behind the counter. "Please forgive me if me head's a bit vague..haven't had a customer for weeks and well s'pose I'm not used to it…but anyway I'm glad you're here. 's nice to have a bit of company."

She suddenly smashed her hand now on the counter in her rush to brush something away giving Hatter the sickening thought that the place was infested.

"Now, I have to warn you," she leveled him with a stare while setting a small meat pie in front of him, "times is hard and meat don't come cheap and…well, my pies have suffered for it."

She returned to her position behind the counter, busying herself with rolling out more dough and slopping a rather pitiful filling into some unbaked crusts.

Hatter picked up the pie and took a cautious bite, immediately gagging at the gritty greasiness of the filling and the stale, molting crust. The woman looked up at him and tsked sympathetically. "Disgusting innit?"

She shook her head in defeat. "That's the reason no one's been in for weeks."

She came round the counter again, this time with a cup of ale. "Here, drink this, you'll need it."

Hatter accepted the cup gratefully and took a large gulp. He shuddered when he realized that he could still taste the pie and his lips pulled back in a grimace.

"I don't blame you dear. But as I said, times is hard and meat is not cheap," she shook her head regretfully. ""course that hasn't stopped Mrs. Mooney from doing good business. She got a pie shop down the road but she's still making a nice profit."

The woman propped her chin up on her hand and smirked. "Curious thing though: lately all her neighbor's cats have disappeared. Imagine that. Have to hand it to her though, that's what I call enterprise, using cats for pies…"

She pondered the alleyway nearby and then shook her head. "I'd never do such a thing of course…the thought alone's enough to make you ill…and them pussycats is quick…"

Mr. Hatter frowned slightly at the last bit but she didn't seem to notice. Instead, she continued pondering the gloomy view outside her shop's window. "course there's not much I can do…woman alone with limited wind…times is hard, sir…times is hard."

Mr. Hatter took another gulp of ale, still gagging from the pie.

"You're gonna need something stronger than that to wash that taste out. C'mon, we'll get you a nice tumbler of gin," she said as she led him into a small parlor. "Homey, innit? The cheery wallpaper was a bargain—only slightly singed when the chapel burned down."

She smiled warmly as she handed him the gin and waved him over to a chair by the fire. "Go on, sit down, warm you bones."

Hatter moved towards the chair, gin in hand and glanced over at her, a question forming in his mind. She turned toward him and smiled again, "Regina Mills by the way…and you are…?"

He ignored the question and asked his own instead, "You've a room over the shop, times is so hard, why don't you rent it out?

"Up there? No, I won't go near it," Regina answered shaking her head. "People think it's haunted and who's to say they're wrong."

She joined him by the fire, all the while staring at him curiously as though he were a puzzle to be solved . "See, years ago something happened up there, something not very nice."

Taking note of the tension in his jaw, Regina pressed on, "There was a barber—very talented barber I might add—and he lived up there with his wife but their life was disrupted when he was exiled."

Mr. Hatter focused his eyes on the fire as Regina continued her study of him. "Swan, that was his name, Swan…Jefferson Swan."

"And his crime?"

"Foolishness," Regina tore her gaze from Hatter and went on to explain. "He had this wife—pretty but rather silly—and there was this judge and he wanted her, oh he wanted her like mad. Every day, without fail, he'd send her flowers but she never responded. And then one day, Mr. Smee calls on her all polite and tells her that the judge feels terribly guilty for pestering her and that he blames himself for her situation, says he wants to apologize. Naturally she's interested so Smee tells her that she must come down to the judge's house. "

She chances a glance at Hatter before continuing the woeful tale. "She gets there and there's a party and everyone's in masks and she's looking for the judge but she can't find him. She gets terribly confused 'cause she don't anyone and she drinks and she asks around 'where's Judge Jones' all the while thinking he wants to apologize to her…"

Another glance at Hatter.

"Well Judge Jones was there but he was anything but contrite. And she's not in her right mind due to the drinks and the distress but everyone thought it droll and they figured she was daft so they just stood around and laughed as the Judge..well," Regina looked down at her hands and muttered," as the Judge took advantage of her, poor thing, poor—"

"No," Hatter whispered in agony, standing up. "Would no on have mercy on her?"

Regina stared up at him in wonder, whispering, "So it is you? Jefferson Swan?"

A tormented look on his face, Hatter—or rather Swan— asked the questions that had been plaguing his mind from the moment he set foot back in London, "Where's Alice? Where's my wife?"

"She poisoned herself…arsenic, from the apothecary 'round the corner…wouldn't listen to me when I tried to stop her."

He gaped at the opposite wall, unable to voice his next question but Regina seemed to guess what it was. "And he's got your daughter."

"He?" Jefferson whispered, "Judge Jones?"

"Adopted her, raised her like his own."

Jefferson nodded stiffly, shrugging off his coat. "Sixteen years, I've sweated in a living hell on a false charge all the while dreaming that I might come home to my wife and daughter…"

Regina heaved a sigh and stood up. "Well, I can't say the years've been particularly kind to you, Mr. Swan—"

"No," Jefferson declared, turning sharply to face her, "not Swan, not anymore, that man is dead."

Regina peered at him curiously, hands on hips, as he stepped closer to her.

"It's Hatter now. Maddox Hatter," a mad glint appeared in his eyes, "and he will have his revenge."

 **I know it's not perfect but I'm trying to translate the musical numbers into story format so...anyway I hope you liked it.**


	3. Friends

**Sorry for not updating sooner, school got in the way. Anyway this chapter's kinda short but the chapters will be getting longer**

Hatter followed Regina out of the pie shop and up the stairs to his old barber shop. His heart pounded with each step and memories of better times rose to the surface. He clenched his jaw tighter and blinked away the tears that threatened to overcome him as he took a final step and found himself staring at the door to his old shop, his old home, and his old life.

Regina turned the handle and the door creaked opened. Hatter didn't follow her into the room. Rather he stood frozen in the doorway, barely able to breath as he drank in the sight. The old barber shop appeared to have aged as much as he had, he realized, noticing the peeling wallpaper, tattered curtains, and thick coat of dust that covered every surface.

"Come in," Regina said gently, "nothing to be afraid of."

Hatter took a tentative step into the shop, his gaze sweeping the room. He walked over to the opposite wall and stopped in front of a sheet-covered piece of furniture. With a trembling hand, he lifted the sheet and saw what used to be his daughter's crib. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her old doll—the one he had bought for her and waved in front of her in attempts to make her laugh—laying there, forgotten. The pain of losing his daughter sharpened and he dropped the sheet, covering up the crib and doll and all the bittersweet memories that came with them.

Regina crouched down on the floor and gently lifted one of the wooden planks up. She reached her arm down and after feeling around for a bit, pulled out a small case. Hatter frowned curiously and crouched down in front of her, eyes fixed on the case. Regina dusted it off and handed it to him. Tentatively, Hatter opened the cases and his eyes fell on his old razors.

"I hid them when they came for your daughter," Regina explained, her gaze never leaving his face, "I could have sold them but I didn't. I kept them safe," she said as a small smile crept on her face and her voice became softer, "for you."

Hatter was barely listening as he slid one of the razors out of the case.

"Those handles is chased silver, ain't they?" Regina gasped.

"Yes," he rasped, "silver."

He continued to stare at the razor in reverence, fingers lightly caressing the handle. He pulled the blade out and for the first time in 16 years, he felt complete. He gazed lovingly at the blade, a maniacal glint in his eyes and certain thoughts began running through his mind, images of one of his precious razors slitting a certain judge's throat, blood glistening on the blade like so many rubies.

So caught up in his thoughts was he that Hatter hadn't even noticed that Regina had moved to the place at his side. Like Hatter, she was staring at something in reverence but it was not the blades but rather Mr. Hatter himself.

Regina had a fondness for the man, always had for as long as she'd been his neighbor and that fondness had endured through his 16 year absence. She remembered being quite envious of his wife, sweet pretty thing that she was with her handsome husband and darling baby daughter. Meanwhile, Regina had been married off to a man much older than herself who was still very much in love with his first wife who had—most unfortunately—passed away. So in love with his first wife was Leopold that he had paid little attention to his new wife and Regina found herself in a loveless marriage built on mutual respect and long silences. And perhaps it would not have been so bad had she been blessed with a child, someone to love and love her in return but alas! it was not meant to be.

And so it was no wonder that she had been jealous of the girl no older than herself who had managed to find and wed a man such as Jefferson Swan. And then in addition to her loving husband who gazed upon her like she was the center of his whole world, she had a child, a sweet little daughter. And Regina would have given anything for such a life..such a happy life.

She sighed and returned to the present moment in the sad gray little room that had once been home to the happy family of three beside the bitter man who had once had that happy life.

It was at that very moment that he noticed her presence so close to him and a look of annoyance flitted across his face."Leave," he whispered, feeling the need to be by himself.

Regina was slightly surprised but she nodded all the same. She picked herself up off the floor and reluctantly left Mr. Swan—no Hatter, she reminded herself—alone. She gave him one last lingering glance and her heart broke at the sight of him sitting by himself in that old dusty shop just staring down as those silver blades as though they were old friends.


	4. Emma

Emma Swan sat at the window in her room of the house she had lived in for the past sixteen years. Though some might think living in the same house for sixteen years would qualify it as one's home, Emma had yet to think of it as such. For her it was only the house she lived in (and would hopefully leave soon). The great house was home to one Judge Jones, who had taken her on as his ward out of the kindness of his heart—as she'd been told many times over the years—after the tragic death of her parents. Though she had only vague recollections of her parents (recollections that seemed more like daydreams she had had of them as a child), Emma was certain that her life would have been much happier with them. Though the judge had told her that both her parents had died, that hadn't stopped her as a little girl from dreaming of a day when a lovely couple would knock down the judge's door and declare that they had come to rescue their darling daughter. As she grew older, hopes of her parents coming for her disappeared and she resigned herself to the idea that they were indeed dead. However, this did not mean she was ready to accept her circumstances and dreams of her parents coming to her rescue turned into dreams of escape.

It was these dreams of escape she was pondering as she sat at her window looking out at the dreary London day. She paid little mind to the embroidery in her hand as she lamented the isolation she felt in the judge's house— _house! more like a cage_ she scoffed to herself. She turned her eyes back to the view of the street and that was when she saw him; a boy about her age, perhaps a few years older, who was staring up at her in awe. Normally someone staring at her would annoy her but this was different. Something about the warmth in his gaze made the corners of her mouth turned up in a small smile which he quickly returned and her heart lifted ever so slightly.

* * *

Bae had most certainly not set out to fall in love that day. He had been studying a map trying to find his way to Hyde Park when he had seen her. He had taken a break from his study of the map and was looking around his surroundings when he saw the girl sitting at her window and found himself quite taken with her.

He didn't even realize he had been staring and was thus surprised when the beauty at the window gave him a small smile which he quickly returned. Bae's smile was replaced with a slight frown when without warning, the girl darted away from the window.

The girl's sudden disappearance only piqued his curiosity about her. So curious was Bae in fact, that he stopped a beggar woman on the street and asked, "Excuse me but do you know whose house that his?"

"That's the great Judge Jones's house," she answered with a shudder as she hunched her shoulders against the cold, pulling her grimy shawl tighter around her shrunken frame.

"And the young lady who lives there?"

"That would be Emma Swan," she sniffed, "his pretty little ward. Keeps her all locked up he does…like a little bird in a cage."

Bae nodded his thanks and fished in his pocket from alms. Having found some, he dropped them in her tin cup.

"Oh thank you sir," she said, bobbing her head, still shaking from the cold. Just as he was moving to walk away, her hand shot out and grabbed his arm. "Don't get any ideas," she warned nodding towards Emma's window, "or it's whipping for you…and any other young mane with mischief on his mind."

She released his arm and continued down the street, begging alms from other strangers. Bae continued down the street, the beggar woman's words fresh in his mind, when the door to the great house belonging to Judge Jones was thrown open by a well-dressed older man who Bae could only assume was the judge himself. "Lost?" he asked.

"Um…yes, actually," Bae stuttered. "I was looking for Hyde Park actually."

"Well, perhaps I can be of some assistance," Jones suggested with a cold smile as he beckoned Bae in.

Bae hesitated, the beggar woman's warning still in mind, but upon the judge's insistence, he reluctantly followed the man into the house where he was led to the library.

"Bit embarrassed getting lost," Bae said, "being a sailor and all."

"A sailor," Jones mused, a thoughtful look on his face, "how interesting."

Silence filled the library and a short, stout man snuck into the room and stood behind Bae, making Bae feel rather uneasy.

Jones broke the silence quite suddenly and fixed Bae with an accusatory glare, "You were staring at my ward."

Bae was caught off guard by the judge's accusation but still managed a reply, "I meant no harm—"

"Your meaning is immaterial—you were staring" the judge stated plainly, his voice rising over Bae's. "And make no mistake," the judge continued with a deathly glare, leaning in so that his face was inches from Bae's, "if I ever see you on this street again, you will rue the day you were born."

Jones nodded to the short man standing behind Bae who promptly grabbed Bae by the collar and dragged him out of the library and towards a side door that opened into the street. The short man forcefully threw Bae onto the street and then slammed the door shut.

Bae stood up, grimacing in pain. He glared at the doors to Judge Jones's house and turned to leave the alley he had been thrown into.

Despite the judge's warning, Bae found himself unable to steer his thoughts away from Emma Swan.


End file.
